


Dinner Doubts

by DustToDust



Series: Doubtful Sanity [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim doesn't know what he's doing at the Wayne Manor, he just knows it's against his own will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Doubts

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [晚餐疑云 / Dinner Doubts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372748) by [blurryyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryyou/pseuds/blurryyou)



> Prompted for Babs dragging Tim along on a family dinner.

"Why am I here?" Tim fidgets with the cuff of his shirt. Button down, and clean. He changed it three times unsure if it was too formal or not before Babs had texted him and told him to keep it on. Also, that she was out on his street and he needed to get in before people thought she was there to try to form some sort of support group with his dad.

"Because I feel the need to spread the suffering," Babs says as she shuts her SUV off and reaches down to start the process of unhooking her chair so the ramp can lower her down. It's a technically involved process that he helped her put into the car when she bought it last year, and he's proud of it. Just not enough to distract himself from the fact that he's outside of the _Wayne_ manor clutching a bottle of wine with a horrible orange bow on it that Babs had thrust at him earlier.

Tim reluctantly leaves the dubious safety of the car and walks around to the drivers side. Keeping one eye on the too still manor house. A discreet --how, he's not entirely sure-- ramp has been placed over one side of the steps leading up to the door, and the door itself looks like it might be ajar. It's as welcoming as any mansion can get and yet Tim would rather belly crawl under the docks in the middle of summer than walk into it.

"What have I ever done to you to warrant this?" There's a list of things he's done, and Tim's fairly sure that Babs can recite three quarters of it without thought right now. Her smile as she wheels herself forward says she's thinking about it. "I haven't even met," Tim stutters a bit as two names want to come out, " _Bruce_ yet, and now you're springing a _family_ dinner on me?"

"It's your fault," Babs says as he falls into step beside her. Bottle held up in offering and as a shield. "Both of you. He's been putting things off and I haven't been able to get you to go anywhere there's even the slightest hint of a pointy eared cowl this past month. You've both brought this on yourselves."

The front door opens with the slightest of bumps and Tim swears he's not nearly this intimidated when he's brokering deals with the Russian mob as he is following Babs into the cool, dark interior of the mansion. He's actually been in the building before, and had been awestruck enough that every detail is still etched in his mind. It'd been for some party, and he'd been hugely disappointed to not see either Bruce Wayne or Dick Grayson at the time. It doesn't look like much has changed at all in the intervening years.

"Thank god you're here!" Steph comes tearing around a doorway. Looking out of place in a pair of wrinkled jeans and a tshirt that's so stretched out she had to have gotten it from Dick. Her eyes are wide as she skids to a stop. Her socked feet and momentum almost tipping her into Babs' lap. "It's Dick's fault! I know it, this just has him written all over it!"

"Easy," Babs snaps out, one hand going up and grabbing Steph hard around her bicep, giving her a little shake. "What has Dick done now?"

"He invited Jason to dinner, and Jason _came_ ," Steph breathes out in a rush that makes the sentence almost one word. Horror is still written across her face and Tim really can't blame her one bit for that. Jason's relationship with any of the Bats is nebulous and undefined, but still firmly in the 'shoot first' territory of interaction.

"Oh?" Babs says far too calmly for the severity of this situation and Tim looks down to see a very evil looking smile curl her lips up. "Is that all? You should go get changed before Alfred sees you," Babs pats Steph's arm before letting go and turning to Tim. "Give me that bottle and go with her. She can point out a few of the emergency exits while I go and enjoy the show."

Tim hands the bottle over and watches the yellow ribbon flutter as Babs wastes no time navigating the halls. Disappearing with no sound made at all.

"'Oh'?" Steph echoes after a minute. Her face screwing up in a mixture of horror and anger. "'Oh'?! That's all she can-" Steph reaches up and fists her hands in her hair. Screwing her eyes and mouth shut tight as she makes a sound that's very close to a scream. "I always forget what it's like when Dick and Babs get together to _plot_."

"They're two different kinds of evil?" Tim offers feeling useless as he turns to shut the door. He stares at the lock for half a second before leaving it alone. They're too far out of Gotham proper to worry about that, and even if someone were to break in Tim's pretty sure it'd be the last criminal act of their life. Maybe even literally since Jason is on the grounds. "So, emergency exits sounds like an awesome thing to know right about now."

"Yeah," Steph blows out a harsh breath that moves her bangs and opens her eyes. Her smile is wry and more of a grimace than anything else. "I'll even show you where all the medical kits are, because we will be needing those sometime tonight. Follow me, Stalker Boy."

~

There's six exits between the front door and Steph's room on the second floor. Only two of them are hidden behind secret panels which vaguely disappoints Tim. There's two well kitted medical boxes, and about half a dozen smaller caches of the the more mundane first aid kits. The last one is open on Steph's bed and is being used by a smiling Cassandra Cain.

"Cass!" Steph abandons Tim and flings herself across the room to the laughing girl. They tumble across a mattress that's far too large and soft looking. Tim eyes it with envy for half a second. "I didn't know you were coming back."

"Wasn't," Cass pulls herself out from under Steph and nods cordially at Tim as she turns back to taping up something that looks like a blister on the heel of her foot. "Last minute favor was called."

They haven't seen each other since the No Man's Land order was reversed, when they were both working out of the clock tower. It's nice to see her again, and she gives him a broader smile as she reads some of that sentiment in him. It's still creepy that she can do that, but he's willing to give her a pass on it considering how long it's been.

"Let me guess," Tim edges past the wide and inviting bed and hooks a foot stool out from under some clothes to sit on. "The favor came through a voice synthesizer and hologram face."

"No," Cass flexes her foot and seems satisfied with the tape job as she gets up and goes to a vanity to pick up a neat pile of clothing. She turns and holds it out to Steph and there's laughter in her eyes as she simply says, "Alfred. He picked clothes for you too."

"That's even worse," Steph groans as she half-crawls and half-falls out of the bed. "I can't complain if it's _Alfred_ behind this all! He'll give me that _look_ as soon as I open my mouth."

Mrs. Mac had been a competent woman, and had about as much of a hand in raising Tim as anyone else. Tim still sends the woman cards and takes the time trying to decipher her elegantly ornate cursive when she writes to him from her new job in California. So Tim knows that the Wayne family butler is more than just a servant even without accounting for the family's night time proclivities. 

He's just still just having a hard time putting the fear and obvious reverence they all seem to have together with the nice man Tim remembers making a special mug of hot cocoa for him when he got 'lost' in the manor the first and only time he'd been allowed in.

"Um, I don't- Hey!" Tim flinches and turns around fast when Steph grabs the bottom of the shirt she's wearing and tugs it off. Unconcerned that he's there watching and that she isn't, in fact, wearing a bra. Tim stares hard to the left --because there's a mirror on his right!-- and feels his face flushing even as Cass laughs at him. "Why are you getting naked?"

"What? I need to change for dinner. You're gay anyways, it's not like you're going to look," Steph's voice is slightly muffled. 

"Not the point," Tim glares at the wall because he can't glare at her, "A little warning that there was going to be breasts flying out would have been nice."

"You run with the masked crowd, you better get used to spontaneous naked time," Tim hears a jingle and then the sound of a zipper being pulled up before the rustling of clothes almost completely stops. "You should know that by now."

"He does," Cass butts in as Tim cautiously turns around. 

Steph's dressed in something that doesn't look like anything she'd pick out herself. Casual but clearly expensive even though she's offsetting it by tying her long hair up with a vividly purple scrunchy that screams Walmart.

"He just likes to complain," Cass is wearing a smile that'd put the Mona Lisa to shame, and Tim knows better than to buy any of it. It'd taken most of the year they worked together to figure out when she was being serious, and when she was pushing buttons just to get a rise out of him.

"If he can drown out the hostility downstairs with his complaints, then I don't care," Steph turns around and she's somehow managed to get some makeup on her face too in the short time. She smirks at Tim's still red face before school her own back into a grim sort of determination that looks right at home on Robin. "Once more, unto the breach, people. Preferably before something gets set on fire."

~

Babs' laugh rings loud and clear even before they reach the room that everyone is gathered in and Tim falters a bit, because it's the laugh she uses when she finds something very bad, very amusing. Steph slows down with him. Matching his wariness with her own and her fists curl up the slightest bit more. Cass ignores them both and sails right into the room without pause.

Jason's voice is the next thing Tim hears. A loud and sarcastic drawl that doesn't really hide the fact that he's angry at _something_. Probably many things. "What is this, a family reunion? I would've worn my nice suit if you'd told me the whole clan would be here. It'd only have a little dirt still left on it."

Jason's wearing what he usually wears, a worn shit and pair of jeans that are very obviously being worn over body armor, and, oddly enough, he's forgone his boots for sneakers Tim'll bet anything he's armed too from the way his shoulders stay tense and the way he keeps a smirk aimed at the room in general. Everyone else seems to know it too.

Dick Grayson is sprawled out on a couch near Babs. It's strained and looks five seconds from snapping, but the man is smiling. It's and expression Tim's seen on the faces of men who are watching their whole lives crumble down around them, but are still trying to grasp at the falling pieces to keep them together.

Babs is relaxed. The bottle is gone and she's looking around the room like she finds this all so utterly fascinating. Which she does, Tim knows this like he knows she's also prepared to beat some heads in if the tension in the room ratchets up any further.

Cass is still crouched down next to Babs after having given her a tight hug in greeting. She's looking at Jason with bright, curious eyes. The weapons don't bother her, neither does Jason's obvious attitude, but she alone in this room can probably see right through it all without having to offer up a blood sacrifice of some sort.

Bruce sits in a wing back chair across from them all. A heavy presence that doesn't look or feel like the Bruce Wayne the rest of the city knows, and Tim just knows he's going to have problems _not_ calling the stern faced man Batman all night long. His face is set in the way it gets when he's only wearing a mask and he's staring Jason down in a way that most of Gotham's criminals are very familiar with.

Steph eases pat him into the room, and the movement, naturally, draws every pair of eyes in the room up to them both. Impossibly, the tension in the room does in fact seem to get higher.

Jason's thrown, and Tim can read a lot of shock in his face that quickly gets covered by anger as he snaps his head back around to glare at the rest of the room. Dick's smile loses some of it's desperate edge and he shifts on the couch. Something in him changing to the vibrating, ever moving man Tim knows only from a distance. Bruce has turned that foreboding stare on Tim, and does not seem pleased at all by this change in the room's dynamics.

"Timmy," Babs raises one arm and beckons him over. Waiting for him to get in arms reach before turning to the rest of the room and continuing. "Alfred insisted he wanted to meet Tim tonight."

The only experience Tim has to liken what happens next is the event that happens when you very carefully poke a hole in a balloon with a pin. The tension and potential for violence drops that quickly. Leaving Tim the center of focus for a room full of curious people instead of people who might be distracted by starting a fight. Which is actually worse in some ways for him.

"Uh," Tim plays with the cuffs of his shirt, compulsively checking the button's still done up on it, and casts around for something. Anything really. He focuses in on Jason leaning against a wall and watching him. The anger's faded some and there's more than a bit of amusement taking it's place because Jason is an asshole who enjoys seeing Tim get embarrassed. Tim's eyes drop to the ground and his mouth goes for the first thing to enter his head that isn't stuttering drivel. "Is that, are those my shoes?"

Jason raises one eyebrow and kicks a foot out to look at the sneakers he's wearing. They are Tim's shoes, ones he's been missing for a good few weeks and had written off as part of his inevitable loss report. Jason looks thoughtful and considering as he studies them for a few seconds. "Could be. It'd explain why I don't remember buying them."

Dick's laugh is loud and sharp as he does something that makes his spine look like liquid and pushes himself up the couch to look over it at Jason. While upside down, sort of like a cat. Tim winces at the amount of pain something like that would cause him. "The yellow suits you. Tell me you didn't wear those on patrol. Was a yellow blur the last thing a couple of thugs saw before you knocked them out?"

Fuck you," Jason swears without much heat. The curl of his smile answer enough for Tim to mentally keep the shoes in his loss report. Blood stains were too much work trying to remove from bright colored material. Jason tilts his head and eyes Tim, the arm closest to him raising slightly and palm angling out in an unspoken request.

Tim doesn't check with Babs as he moves around the room towards him. He also carefully doesn't look anyone in the face, although he can _feel_ the eyes staring as Jason takes his hand and pulls him in close to his side. The kiss is brief and chaste more for Tim's comfort than anything else. Left to his own choice Jason would not feel the slightest discomfort in picking Tim up and pressing him into the wall for a long while. Audience or not.

PDAs are not something that Tim's entirely comfortable with just yet, but they're inevitable with how demonstrative Jason can be. Tim's getting used to it, and they're both trying to meet in the middle with it. The shrill wolf whistle they get for that one kiss doesn't help much though. Even though he knows it's from Steph who is every bit as much of an asshole as Jason.

"Fuck off, Replacement!" Jason breaks off to snarl, real heat entering his voice again even as he curls an arm around Tim's lower back. Holding tight to keep Tim close.

"What?" Steph's voice is saccharin sweet over a core of anger that she doesn't actually give into. "Can't I appreciate the fact that Geek Boy there's obviously getting some?"

Tim can feel the struggle in Jason not to agree. It's more than a little ridiculous in Tim's opinion. Steph and Jay would get along so very well if it weren't for the grudge between them. One that he knows started with Jason but is continued by them both now.

"Don't take your dating woes out on me, Brown," Tim turns in Jason's arm so he can face the room. His back pressing up tight against the man's chest. Steph grimaces at him, but there's a light of cheerfulness in her eyes that says she's playing. Despite the way that light dims when she looks at Jason. "I told you not to date Brian, but you did it anyway."

"Who's Brian?" Dick's back down the couch and turned towards Steph faster than Tim can blink. His voice deceptively mild given his face is doing that thing it does when Nightwing's getting ready to do things that will lead to people being in pain. Steph glares at him and gives him a mulish look back.

"You alright?" Jason leans in close to mutter in Tim's ear. Too low to be heard by the rest of the room which is being sucked into the growing argument between Steph and Dick.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Tim mutters right back. Turning so he can look up at Jason. "Seriously, why're you here if you obviously hate it so much?"

"Alfred asked," Jason says. An explanation in and of itself from his tone of voice.

"Seriously?"

"Indeed, Mr. Drake," Tim jumps a little at the voice and whips his head around to meet the amused eyes of Alfred Pennyworth. Butler for the entire Wayne family, and, apparently, the one man they all obey without question. "I have heard much about you, and it is a pleasure to meet you again."

"Again?" Dick parrots but Alfred breezes past the question, turning to Bruce who has been watching the whole exchange with a narrowed eyed look that's more assessing than threatening. "Dinner has been laid out, Sir. Might I suggest we save all serious conversation until after?"

It's not a question as much as it is an order, and Tim can see it echoing through the room in the way everyone simultaneously straightens up and cowers. It's absolutely _fascinating_ to see a roomful of the toughest vigilantes in the world meekly obey the older man.

"Of course," there's traces of Bruce Wayne in the answer even as Batman flicks his eyes over Tim and Jason one last time. "It's a pleasure to have you here with us Timothy. I would like to know more about you."

Jason's arm tightens around Tim, and his next breath is a hiss, but Tim smiles back. The same smile he uses for society as he parrots back a totally bland and politely acceptable nothing, "Pleasure is all mine, Mr. Wayne."

They file out, one by one, but Jason doesn't move and neither does Alfred who is still looking at them both. Or maybe _Looking_ because it really feels like something that deserves capital letters.

"It's good to see you again, Master Jason," Alfred eventually says. Soft and barely hinting at an absolute well of emotion that Tim doesn't know the man enough to even begin to identify. Jason can though. Tim can feel it in the way Jason goes stiff and still behind him. Alfred turns his attention to Tim before Jason can say anything, and his smile is honest and warm. "And I do hope to see more of you around, Mr. Drake. I think you can be a very good influence on this family."

Alfred nods once at them both before turning and exiting the room. Leaving Tim quietly awed.

"And that's why we all listen to him," Jason huffs out on a laugh as he pushes them both away from the wall. Tim stumbles a bit as Jason pulls his arm away, only to reach out and tangle their hands together. Jason's smiling now. Genuinely. "You ready for dinner and the inquisition that comes after?"

"Promise you won't leave me alone for it?"

"Never," Jason swears with a squeeze of his hand.

"Then I'll be fine," Tim says as he lets Jason take the lead, because he doesn't have any idea where they're going just yet.

Jason chuckles and leads him deeper into the manor house. Towards the faint smell of food and the even fainter sound of voices, and Tim thinks that the night might not be so bad after all.


End file.
